We had a pretty uneventful, mundane weekend. I was reminded (as I so often am these days) of the one thing I learned from Professor Shelton’s first year property class (yes, I admit, I only learned one thing – it was long before I started practicing civil law that I forgot all about fee simple estates) – that wisdom that was imparted was that “boredom is underrated.” I now long for boredom and have come to appreciate it in ways that I could not have imagined before. So, with that in mind, when I say we had a mundane weekend, I meant that in the absolute best of ways.
I truly have learned to savor most things about the mundane, from lying on the couch and watching movies, to eating grilled cheese and playing chase outside in the yard, I can waste away an afternoon with the best of them. Part of my appreciation for these things is that I know they end; therefore, I know I have sweet little time to enjoy them and must make the most of them. Unfortunately, there are other parts of the mundane that, like the song, just go on and on my friend…and, again, like the song, drive this mama a little crazy.
I have always been one who fancied herself a finisher. I love a completed project, finality, surety. This has been one of the biggest struggles I have had in my career – the never-ending stress from the never-ending cycle of litigation – they file something, I respond, they reply, we sur-reply, and so on and so forth. You get a judgment, take a breath, it’s appealed, here we go again. So, looking back, law was probably not the best career choice for someone who loves for things to end and be tied up in a pretty little package. Not sure what that career is, but another job that has a similar craze-inducing never-endingness to it is that of a domestic diva.
Now don’t get me wrong, the never-ending love and laughs and cuddles and hugs are fantastic and I hope they never, ever end. It’s not the mommy-side of things that need a finish line, it’s the household side. As I was washing yet another load of dirty clothes this weekend, I began thinking about all of the things that really NEVER end around the house. Laundry, obviously, is one of those. As I was loading my “last” load in the washer, I realized that it wasn’t really my “last” load because all three of us had clothes on that were, by virtue of being ON, dirty and in need of washing. So, as soon as I would have this “last” load dried and hung up, we’d have at least the makings of the next load already in the hamper. The same is true for the drycleaning – as soon as it’s in the closet, it’s in queue to be worn and, thereby, soiled again, creating another trip to the drycleaner to drop off, then pick up, then do it all again. Maddening.
Equally never-ending is the need to go to the grocery store. This is coming from a woman who “makes groceries” AT LEAST twice every week. I actually like to grocery shop – it’s really my favorite kind of shopping. That is due in large part to the Lebanese-Cajun gene that equates food with happiness and celebration. I get a sense of endless possibility when I’m deciding on cuts of meat to make for the week, as if the night’s dinner is going to set the stage for the next day’s promise. Despite my love of food, however, the sense of having an infinite grocery list can be taxing. The moment I have all the groceries unloaded, the list starts up again. Not just things I may have forgotten, but that glass of milk being swallowed is one less glass in the gallon and one glass closer to needing another gallon. Same for every bowl of cereal or slice of bread – consumption begets need. Not only that, it also begets trash which leads to a full trash can, which leads to being taken out, which leads to…you get the picture.
Then there is the dust. Having dogs is wonderful on the one hand – them being Pumpkin’s best friends and providing endless free entertainment. However, every time I open the door to let them in or out, I feel like not only are they dragging in their little fur-shedding bodies, but dust and dander and pollen and everything else you can imagine. I probably wouldn’t notice as much if I didn’t have a dark rug in my living room or occasionally wear black pants and get on the ground to play, but in any event, I have noticed and it’s as if as soon as I unplug the vacuum it needs to be drug out again.
Since I realize that I cannot force my family to sit around naked and starving with our doors boarded shut, I will have to just allow this post to be my catharsis and happily take the good mundane with the not-as-good mundane. While I’d love to have an endless closet of clean, folded, and pressed clothes, that also isn’t going to happen, so instead I’ll just appreciate the chance to clean those little pink dresses, realizing that one day, Pumpkin’s need for me to do that WILL end.
And, besides, all those chores are more than worth the happiness and love of my little family, so I’ll keep on washing, shopping, and dusting for them, because being a mommy really is the job that never ends and it’s a job I’ll gladly do.
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